Day 1585 of our relationship, I'm turning 27.

27, eek. At 10pm tonight it will be official, as my mom reminded me last night. My poor little mother giving birth to a 9.5 lb. baby, 27 years ago. I can't wait to see what I will birth with these hips and with G being 6'6".

I'm now three years off from 30.

If I had my way, I would forever be 22 or 23. Those have been my favorite years so far.

I do not like getting older. I just don't.

It's hard to believe that I was 22 when I met G. He had just turned 25. When I turned 23, he lovingly told me that 23 was the "trade-in age." What a butt munch! I asked him what the trade-in age for guys was because if he recalled, he was three years my senior!

Well, now, I'm way past that trade-in age.

G is super, super sick. I kissed him goodbye this morning while he was lying in bed with no covers on. He was burning up! I hope he doesn't feel obligated to try to feel better on behalf of my birthday. I can tell he's miserable and I feel bad that I'm not there to take care of him.

E will be here tomorrow afternoon.

Yesterday when I got home from work I got a lovely surprise. I got to clean up doggie doo out of Bailey's crate. For some reason, the last two days in a row, he's pooped in his crate, eaten it, and thrown it up, e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e! So, lucky me, I got to wash a poop covered dog and his crate and the basement floor. Thank goodness it's still unfinished. Let me tell you though. Trying to get the shit smell out of your house is not an easy, or comfortable task when it's 20 degrees outside. I made G freeze while I ran the house fan to pull that poo smell out. I have a bionic sniffer and everything that has foul smell, no matter how little, will drive me crazy. I still think the house smells like crap, but G and his sister disagree.